


Kaleidoscope

by ryukoishida



Category: Free!
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, De-Aged Makoto, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the first day of summer break before the start of college, Haruka Nanase wakes up to find his best friend sleeping on the futon next to his bed, which isn’t that unusual in itself. What has surprised Haruka is the fact that Makoto seems to have transformed into his twelve-year-old self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kaleidoscope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uvcatastrophe (wallhaditcoming)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallhaditcoming/gifts).



> Also known as that one time Makoto mysteriously gets de-aged and everyone scrambles to coo over and take care of him, and also bb!Makoto may or may not be harbouring a puppy crush on the tall, intimidating, and awkward-with-children Sousuke.

Haruka rolls over on his pillow with a soft groan, eyes blinking drowsily against the slits of sunlight filtering in from the blinds. The moment his eyes have adjusted to the half-light of his bedroom, Haruka can faintly see the outline of the bundle of blankets on the futon next to his bed where his best friend is currently still asleep. Except…

 

He blinks a few more times to make sure he’s truly awake before he settles his puzzled gaze on the lightly snoring figure once more.

 

There’s something different about the way the bundle looks this morning, even though all Haruka can see is the back of a fluffy, brown-haired head, but for the moment, he can’t quite put his finger on what; that is, until the sleeper shifts and turns with a soft sigh, and when Haruka can see precisely what is wrong with the picture, his eyes grow wide for a second, then narrow into a guarded frown, muttering a relatively calm phrase that’s mixed with a hint of confusion, “…what the.”

 

As if he can hear his whisper, the person wrinkles his nose, slanted brows puckering up into a scowl at being woken up, and he begins to open his eyes blearily, bright green amidst the semi-darkness of the room.

 

“Ha-Haru?” His call for his best friend – a boyish voice still unaffected by the hell that is puberty is familiar though from years ago – is interrupted by a yawn, and at this point, Haruka is certain that he’s either having a very vivid, but weird dream, or he’s been drugged and is now experiencing some sort of hallucination.

 

Either way, there doesn’t appear to be any logical reason that can explain the presence of a young Makoto Tachibana (Haruka estimates his age to be around eleven to twelve years old) and the disappearance of the actual Makoto – unless the Makoto who’s currently sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand is the actual Makoto, in which case…

 

Haruka hums quietly, eyes shut tight and he can feel a headache coming on. Before he can figure out how to proceed with this new-found knowledge, however, he needs to solve the problem at hand – namely, the child whom Haruka will presume for the moment to be the real Makoto who has somehow turned six years younger over the course of the night is now looking up at him with distrust and fear in those overly familiar yet unfamiliar eyes, his body posture screaming tension with his back snug against the opposite wall and his shaking hands holding the blanket defensively before his small body.

 

“Who…who are you?” he stutters in a tiny voice, almost imperceptible in the way he’s shaking so much. His eyes flit around the room quickly, and there’s recognition reflected back; his arms relax for a moment before they freeze up again, his gaze wary of the stranger sitting on his best friend’s bed. “Where’s Haru? What have you done with him?”

 

‘It’s too early for me to have to deal with this,’ is Haruka’s thought, but when he sees Makoto’s expression – green eyes widened in terror like he wants to tear out of the room and the only thought that’s keeping him in place is his worry for his friend – the stern line of his lips softens, and what comes out of his mouth is a gentle reminder, “Makoto, I am Haru. Don’t you recognize me?”

 

“You…” The brown-haired boy lowers the blanket from his face, eyes narrowing in suspicion, but as he examines the young man from head to toe, Makoto sees the tousled blue-black hair, the eyes that have always been a beautiful shade of the summer sea, and the barely-there if you glance carelessly but absolute ‘I’m 900% done’ expression Haruka wears whenever he’s fed-up. No matter how much his friend’s physical traits have changed, that particular expression is the one thing that makes Makoto believe in the stranger’s words.

 

Well, Makoto supposes this strangely grown-up version of Haruka’s not technically a stranger if he really is his Haru.

 

“Since when did you get so tall, Haru-chan?”

 

Haruka would like to reply with snappy sarcasm – a product of his fatigue and just the general absurdity of the whole situation – something along the lines of, “And since when did you find a philosopher’s stone?” But knowing the elementary school-aged Makoto very well for obvious reasons, Haruka shuts his mouth and drily allows, “Drop the ‘chan’, will you?”

 

“Definitely Haru,” Makoto murmurs to himself, stunned as he keeps staring at the towering man before him.

 

Calling the Tachibanas is out of the question; they’ve just flown off to Hokkaido for their two-week summer holidays, leaving their eldest son back in Iwatobi with the intention of getting him to pack up and get ready for his new semester in Tokyo in a few weeks’ time. And anyway, this kind of thing is going to be difficult to explain over the phone.

 

He decides the best course of action for now is to call Rei and Nagisa over and… and then what?

 

Haruka glances over at the tiny Makoto, who has left the blanket shield behind and is padding over to where Haruka is still sitting rooted on his mattress, green eyes having turned slightly friendlier but a glint of cautiousness remains. He’s trying to fix his sleep shirt, which didn’t shrink with him so that one side insists on slipping over his shoulder and he has to keep pulling it up with his clumsy fingers to cover himself properly. The hem of his too-big, orange-yellow stripped shirt falls over his knees and Haruka doesn’t even want to know where his shorts have gone to.

 

The dark-haired teenager shoots up, startling the boy into taking a step back and almost tripping over the edge of the futon. Haruka stalks over to where he knows Makoto’s overnight bag is sitting – by the side of his desk – and rummages through the pockets until he feels the cool metal of keys.

 

“I’m going to grab some clothes for you,” Haruka speaks in a hurried but collected tenor from the doorway, his back towards the room, but when he turns around, the ice in his eyes melts a little at the sight of Makoto on the verge of following him, his facial expression one of a lost puppy.

 

Haruka releases a breath, crouches down so that he can look at the boy at eye level, and he gestures for Makoto to come closer. “I’m going over to your house and get some of Ren’s clothes for you. You can’t just run around the house with that,” Haruka stares pointedly at the shirt that’s threatening to slip over his small frame for the umpteenth time. “And I need to make a phone call, so… so just stay put and don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll be right back.”

 

With some hesitation and gauging on the brunet’s reaction with a steady gaze, he ruffles Makoto’s locks softly, remembering how much the twins giggle every time he does the same thing to them. At the tickling sensation, Makoto smiles his million-watt smile – still the same as ever – and nods, “Okay, Haru.”

 

Makoto thinks he should probably mention the fact that Ren’s clothes most likely won’t fit him, seeing as his younger brother is four years old, but then Haruka is already putting on his pants and before Makoto even has a chance to utter a word, Haruka dashes out with a “I’ll be back soon!”

 

-

 

By the time Nagisa and Rei get there, Haruka has already fed himself and his young guest some grilled mackerel and rice for breakfast. He was half expecting Makoto to complain about his diet again, but the brown-haired boy has been speechless as he watched his best friend – well, some grown-up version of his best friend, he still hasn’t figured out what in the world is going on, and neither does Haruka, from the looks of it – cooking with a sort of fluid expertise he’d only witnessed when his mother is in the kitchen, and he’s so impressed that he continues to compliment Haruka all through the meal with a genuine happiness that makes his whole face lights up.

 

Haruka blushed, but only chastised him with a soft but firm, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

 

“Excuse the intrusion,” Rei says out of habit while Nagisa simultaneously bounces in through the threshold of the front door and immediately bombards Haruka with questions.

 

“Haru-chan, what were you saying about Mako-chan de-aging? Like, is that a euphemism for something inappropriate?”

 

“Nagisa…” Usually, Haruka is excellent at handling the blond’s at times overwhelming ecstatic state, but today is not that day. “Just take a look for yourself.” He moves aside and lets the two young men step into the living room, where Makoto is sitting on a cushion at the short-legged table and reading a volume of manga that Haruka has brought over from the Tachibana residence.

 

“Mako…chan?” Even Nagisa seems to be at a loss for words when he gawks at the child who promptly turns around at the sound of his name. “Wh-what happened to you?”

 

Makoto tilts his head at the funny question and squints at the blond-haired male; something about his cerise eyes and overall disposition reminds him of someone. Standing beside him is a taller fellow whom Makoto is sure he’s never met, but from the way he straightens himself stiffly, and pushes his red-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose in a practised motion, violet irises filled with endless questions and awe, Makoto cannot be certain whether or not this man is a friend or foe.

 

“Haru, are they your friends?” He looks up at the dark-haired man with earnest curiosity.

 

“Makoto-senpai, don’t you recognize us?” Before Haruka can reply, Rei has already stepped forward. Makoto scrambles backwards in alarm at the stranger’s unexpected reaction, the book in his hand clatters with a dull thump on the tatami mat. Rei apologizes instantly.

 

“Makoto,” Haruka places a comforting hand on top of his head as he takes a seat adjacent to the boy, and he turns to face Haruka, waiting for his friend to continue. “Are you sure you don’t know them? Anything familiar about them at all? Look more closely.”

 

Upon his best friend’s suggestion, Makoto takes a good, long look at the two high school students before him again.

 

The shorter of the two boys does look familiar, and if he’s going to follow the logic that Haru has somehow miraculously turned into a high school student, then the same can be applied to his other friends, like the tiny Nagisa Hazuki he remembers, too, right?

 

“Nagisa?” Makoto tries uncertainly. The blond nods with a broad smile.

 

“What about the one beside Nagisa?” Haruka prompts further, his gaze concentrating solely on Makoto’s reaction.

 

Makoto’s eyes stray to the taller boy next to Nagisa, and he’s trying hard – all three of the older boys can tell from the puckered brows and the pursed lips on the child – as he stares at Rei with unblinking eyes.

 

Rei swallows hard, hands wringing in front of his body. He’s not used to such a straight-forward and almost scrutinizing gaze from a child – more specifically, a child who was his senpai yesterday.

 

After a long moment of silence, Makoto gives up with a sigh, looks back up to Haruka and shakes his head.

 

Rei looks so disappointed as if he’s about to cry. Wishing he can comfort the glasses-clad young man but knowing he’s not exactly great at that specific task, Haruka decides to leave the consoling to Nagisa, and signals them to follow him out into the hallway, leaving a curious Makoto back in the living room.

 

“I think…” Haruka begins thoughtfully, making eye contact with Nagisa and Rei as if to ask for their opinion on his notion of this bizarre matter. “Perhaps Makoto, for whatever reason, only retains the memory he has at his current physical age. That’s why he still vaguely recognizes Nagisa and me, but not Rei since they only met last year.”

 

The other two nod in agreement, and Rei adds, “But Haruka-senpai, what exactly happened last night that causes Makoto-senpai to… well, de-age?” It’s difficult for Rei to spit out such an unscientific concept, but there is no other way to label Makoto’s situation.

 

Haruka doesn’t say anything for a brief moment, turning to look at the brown-haired boy who returns to reading his book, and the two younger students can see the tenderness in his eyes. Though high school-aged Makoto towers over all of them and always acts as their big brother, Haruka has always known him to be a sensitive boy who takes care of others before he would even consider himself, and somewhat of a scaredy-cat in opposition to his intimidating physique. Now that he’s almost half the size of his normal stature, Haruka feels his heart stirs with an even fiercer compulsion to protect him as Makoto has done for him over the years.

 

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “We watched a movie in my bedroom until about midnight and then went to bed. When I woke up this morning, Makoto’s already…” He stops there and his blue-eyed gaze drops to the ground. Nagisa and Rei share a knowing glance with each other but say nothing.

 

“We can’t do much now, can we?” Rei muses. “The most logical thing to do would be to wait for Makoto-senpai’s family to come home and see what they make of it.”

 

Haruka nods in concurrence, and that has been that.

 

-

 

“Makoto-senpai… Why are you looking at me like that?” Rei has been frowning over the trigonometry question in his textbook for the last few minutes until he feels an unmistakable burn of a pair of green eyes peering at him, and when Rei looks over, he finds Makoto – still in his pre-teen awkwardness – attempting to hide his face behind the novel he’s been reading as he lets out a soft squeak at being caught by the stranger whom he has been staring this whole time.

 

When Rei puts his pencil down but remains quiet as he waits for Makoto to reply, the brunet slowly puts his book on the table, a slight blush tainting his round cheeks. His small hands sit on top of the book, fingers tightly knitted together, and Rei knows that the little boy is working up his nerves to say something to him, so Rei waits patiently with an encouraging, if a little timid, smile.

 

“How do you know Haru and Nagisa?” Makoto finally manages to voice out his question.

 

Rei blinks, though he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. From what Nagisa has told him, Makoto and Haruka grew up together and have been very close since they were children, so of course Makoto would find it odd that his best friend – who is not the most approachable person to begin with and is known to have very few people he’d consider friends – has befriended someone he’s never met before.

 

For the past three days, though Makoto had been his cheery self in front of them, Rei did notice that sometimes during the moments when he thought the other three were not watching him too closely, the brown-haired boy would glance at them with mild distrust. Perhaps “distrust” is too strong of a word when it comes to Makoto since he always sees the best side of people; maybe a combination of “cautiousness” and “bafflement” would be a better description of the look in those clear, green eyes.

 

“Through school,” Rei tells him.

 

“High school?” Because Makoto is sure that he has not seen this Rei guy in Iwatobi Elementary or at IWSC, so it only makes sense if it is the other option, though he still can’t figure out how Haruka and Nagisa have grown up so much quicker than he has. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows there are things in this world that just can’t be explained – sometimes it’s because humans haven’t found the answers yet, and other times, it’s better to leave some mysteries unsolved.

 

Makoto wonders if his case falls into the latter category.

 

Rei nods. He’s somewhat relieved that Makoto has been able to take this in so calmly.

 

“Anything else you’d like to know?” Rei wants the child to be able to relax around them and he’ll try his best to do so if answering his questions is the way to go about it.

 

The boy wrings his hands tightly together in his lap for a little while before he hastily picks up his book, flicks through the pages until he locates the one he’s searching for, and scoots closer to the corner of the table nearest Rei’s sitting figure, pointing a finger at a word amongst the dense blocks of text, bashful green eyes looking up at Rei questioningly.

 

“You want me to teach you?” The blue-haired teenager is definitely not expecting that request.

 

Makoto nods, a small hesitant smile curls on his mouth. “You’re very smart, Rei nii-chan, so is it okay for me to ask you if I get stuck on a word? It’s kind of a hard book for me, but that’s the only one I can find on Haru’s bookshelf that I’m interested in.”

 

“What are you reading?” Rei is still blushing from the earnest and almost worshipful tone with which the child has called him “nii-chan”; it’s at once odd and endearing.

 

Makoto shows him the cover of a tall man with a pipe in his mouth and the infamous deer stalker hat on his head.

 

“A Study in Scarlet – unabridged edition, too?” Rei laughs, and Makoto looks a bit insulted, but then the high school student beams at him, genuinely impressed by the boy’s daring at taking on such a difficult book. “No wonder you’re having such a hard time, Makoto-senpai! This book is targeted at audiences who are a little bit older, probably senior high school level.”

 

“Oh,” Makoto seems crestfallen. “So, does that mean I should pick another one to read?” From the dejected look on the boyish face, Makoto is still staring longingly at the novel in his hands, obviously unwilling to give up on the story. He may have missed some of the more difficult vocabulary, but he can still loosely follow the plot, and he has been fascinated by Sherlock Holmes’ brilliant deductions and John Watson’s loyal devotion to his friend so far. He wants to continue reading Holmes and Watson’s adventure to see if they can solve the case after all the trouble they have gotten through.

 

“Not at all,” Rei says with assurance, and when the young boy looks back up at him with hopeful eyes through his brown fringes, Rei pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a sense of purpose and finality, and announces, “You’re welcome to ask me anything regarding this book, and I’ll try my best to answer your questions. Does that sound good?”

 

“Mm-hmm!” Makoto nods his head vigorously, his bangs falling into his eyes that are brightened with happiness. “Thanks, Rei nii-chan!”

 

Glancing at the empty glass that has been sitting there for the last half hour, Makoto decides it’s time to stretch his legs and get a refill. Rei takes no heed and tries to concentrate on the equations on his paper once more.

 

However, when the brunet returns, he’s carrying not one but two glasses – a glass of juice that he positions in front of himself, and another filled with dark amber liquid that Makoto places carefully close to Rei’s stack of textbooks.

 

Rei looks up at the offered beverage, slightly taken aback by the gesture.

 

“You like barley tea, right?” Makoto wants to make sure in case he remembers wrong. Whenever Rei comes over, Haruka always serves him that tea, so Makoto just assumes that it’s his favourite.

 

Rei just didn’t expect that even as young as he currently is, Makoto continues to be this observant and caring of the people around him.

 

“Y-yes. Thank you, Makoto-senpai.”

 

“Oh, one more thing,” the boy’s brows are scrunched together. “Can you stop calling me ‘senpai’? It’s weird being called that when I’m much younger than you.”

 

Rei could have said the same thing with Makoto’s constant “Rei nii-chan”s, but he supposes given the situation, it makes sense for the boy to refer to him as an older brother-like figure.

 

“Sure, Makoto…-kun?” Rei tries the honorific, scratching his cheek at the foreign sound coming out of his mouth.

 

“‘Makoto’ is fine, you know,” he giggles, settling back down on his side of the table and crossing his legs. He takes a gulp of juice before getting back to his book.

 

So the two spend the remaining of the afternoon in companionable silence to the sound of the whirring fan by the opened sliding doors – Rei is working on his summer homework while Makoto reads his book. The routine is occasionally broken only when Makoto asks Rei about an unfamiliar word. Every time after Rei has explained a word to him, Makoto would thank him with a dazzling grin and continues to read.

 

By the time Haruka returns home from university-related errands he has to run that day, the dark-haired boy finds that Rei has abandoned his school work, and is in fact sitting with the bright-eyed child next to him with a book between them as they take turns reading passages out loud, both of them attempting to use ridiculous voices for different characters. Haruka has to slap a hand over his mouth to stop his chuckling from being heard.

 

Rei also helps Makoto out when he has difficulty stuttering a particularly tricky word with too many syllables, and Makoto copies his pronunciation almost perfectly, which earns him an encouraging nod from the older boy.

 

After watching quietly from the threshold of the living room doorway for a few minutes, Haruka decides to make his presence known.

 

“I’m home.”

 

“Welcome home, Haru!” Makoto jumps up from his spot and rushes to his best friend’s side, immediately chattering about how Rei has been helping him with his reading and how cool Sherlock Holmes is with his genius observations and clever deductions.

 

Haruka nods every once in awhile to show that he’s paying attention, a tiny smile forming on his lips as he listens to Makoto’s every word.

 

“How was your day, Haru?” Makoto wants to know.

 

“Nothing special,” Haruka shrugs. “Just lots and lots of paper work and filling out forms – boring things like that.”

 

“Grown-ups are amazing,” Makoto sighs with admiration. “I want to be just like Haru when I grow up!”

 

Haruka silently thanks whatever deity is up there that Makoto didn’t end up anything like himself. He remembers those few dark, foreboding months when he felt utterly lost and alone, not knowing how his future would unfold because he couldn’t find his dream while everyone around him was ready to move forward with their lives. The threat of being left behind became an insistent shadow that haunted him when he was by himself, the huge family house echoing with his sole footsteps; even breathing sounded too loud in the still, stranded air.

 

It was his friends who confronted him and pulled him out of this stale darkness; he will never forget that. Haruka knows his best friend has always been watching out for him from the sidelines, the gentle, caring gaze that is Makoto’s amiable trait since they were children never stray far.

 

Makoto’s loving concern for him is a constant in his life that Haruka believes will never change or cease completely, and that is why he will be the same fixed point for Makoto now despite the strange happening. That’s the only thing he is able to do for him after all.

 

“Wouldn’t it be better if you grew up to be your own person – special in your own way instead of being a shadow of someone else?” Haruka asks, lips quirking in amusement.

 

Makoto ponders on this for a moment, and finally nods, expression turning so solemn suddenly that Haruka and Rei have to restrain themselves from laughing at the adorable face. “I guess,” he concedes softly.

 

“Rei, can I talk to you?” Haruka motions for them to carry on the conversation out in the hallway. Rei quickly follows, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and sending the child one last wave of goodbye before following Haruka to the front door.

 

“So, there’s no way you can reschedule it?”

 

Rei shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. We’ve been planning for this training camp since spring, and next week is the only time when everyone on the swim team can make it.”

 

Haruka dips his head once in understanding, though his blue eyes flicker with a hint of trouble.

 

“That means you, Nagisa, and Gou will be gone all of next week,” Haruka murmurs to himself, brows furrowing, “and I have to attend an orientation at the university in Tokyo. It will be hard to explain why I have a twelve-year-old in tow. Damn it.”

 

The glasses-clad young man watches Haruka quietly while he tries to work it out in his head, and Rei wonders if he should interrupt with his own suggestion, “What about Rin-san?”

 

“Rin?” The thought hasn’t crossed his mind even once. His eyebrows rise upward rather dubiously at the idea.

 

“He hasn’t left for Australia yet, right? And he has experience taking care of a young sibling, so Rin-san should be the most logical choice given the situation?” Rei eyes the dark-haired boy carefully, gouging for his reaction. Haruka doesn’t seem to be too thrilled about the idea, for one reason or another.

 

“I haven’t told him about Makoto’s… situation yet,” Haruka says, frowning slightly. “I can’t predict how he’ll react to such an absurd condition, given how much of a hot-head he is at times.”

 

“But Makoto-senpai and Rin-san are childhood friends, too – they’ve known each other for a long time as well – so you should trust him, or at least trust his judgement when it comes to his friendship with Makoto-senpai,” Rei attempts to reason, his violet eyes urging.

 

Haruka hums, nibbling his lower lip for a worryingly long while, and finally nods in affirmation with a resigned sigh. “I guess we don’t have much of a choice.”

 

-

 

“I might have misheard you on the phone, Rin,” Sousuke stares at the child who is scuffling the tip of his shoes and attempting to make himself as small as possible behind Rin’s towering figure. “But who is this again?” He sends a sharp glare at his best friend, wordlessly waiting for a reasonable clarification that explains the presence of Rin in travel attires and a suitcase accompanied by a small boy who looks strangely familiar.

 

“You didn’t mishear me,” Rin sighs, and puts a hand on the boy’s head lightly, a comforting gesture, it seems, because the child visibly relaxes at the touch. “You remember my friend from the Iwatobi swim team – the captain, Makoto Tachibana?” His voice grows smaller with each word as Rin realizes how ridiculous this is starting to sound, and Sousuke’s bewildered expression – coolly subtle as it always has been – does not escape Rin’s observation.

 

“This – you mean to tell me that this boy here is the same Tachibana who raced us in the relay?” Sousuke’s voice is still surprisingly detached though he fails to notice that the smallest twitches of his brows are betraying him.

 

“The very same one – more or less,” Rin gives him a helpless shrug. If Haruka can’t give him a proper explanation, then Rin cannot possibly be expected to do so. “He doesn’t remember anything beyond his current age though, so you’re probably a stranger to him.”

 

It has taken Haruka nearly an hour to try to explain to a very confused Rin about what has happened to Makoto for the past week, and even after the awkward re-introductions, Rin still had a hard time identifying his friend in the body of a twelve-year-old boy. It was like he has somehow travelled back in time because the current Makoto is unmistakably him alright – everything from his soft-spoken nature to his bright green eyes.

 

It has taken less than thirty minutes for Makoto to warm up to the red-haired boy, though he still exhibited cautious glances every now and then despite his timid smiles and polite words.

 

Mrs. Matsuoka has never met Makoto before, so Rin merely told her that his friend’s nephew will be staying with them for a week due to some vague and complicated circumstances, and that was the end of that.

 

“And where may you be going?” Sousuke asks stiffly, eyeing his suitcase with all kinds of accusation.

 

“I told you! The coach at my Australian university literally ordered me to show up for training as soon as I can. I don’t think he gave me any chance to argue for my case.”

 

“When will you return?” Rin is feeling like this is becoming the Spanish Inquisition, and he supposes he can’t blame the poor guy; he is, after all, getting the shortest end of the stick here without a dab of warning.

 

“Probably a few days before university officially starts?” He leaves it as a question because he isn’t so sure of the plan himself, but he definitely needs to come back to Japan at some point before school starts to get all his things packed and sent to Sydney.

 

“Then what the f- I mean, what am I supposed to do with him?” Sousuke’s gaze flicks to the boy and back to his friend.

 

“Just take good care of him for me,” Rin’s voice softens, and he gently pushes the small boy forward to stand in front of him. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks, and when he looks up at Sousuke shyly, fingers squeezing nervously before him, Sousuke can see those big green eyes widen slightly.

 

Well, his height can be fairly frightening to some, especially for a child who only reaches a little over his waist level. Sousuke vaguely wonders if the boy is terrified of him in general. He’s often been told he has a very intimidating presence, particularly when he doesn’t smile.

 

“You know I’m not good with children.” Sousuke is starting to feel uncomfortable with the way Makoto is looking at him. It’s not that his gaze is in any way intrusive or rude; it’s just there’s something about the boy whom Sousuke has only seen and known as a third-year high school student and a fellow swimming competitor that has left his mind in a perplexed state.

 

“It’s very easy! It’s like… taking care of a talking pet!” Rin brightens up, but cringes apologetically when Makoto shoots him an affronted frown. “Sorry, Makoto, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

Sousuke seems to be amused by the two’s exchange, so Rin unwinds a little. “Haru will come pick him up the day after tomorrow. I’ve already e-mailed him about it, but man, he’s going to be so mad at me.” He shivers at the mere thought of an angry Haruka.

 

Sousuke lets out a long-suffering sigh, eyes slipping close in defeat as he runs a hand through his dark locks, and Rin knows he has won the battle. “I really, really appreciate this, Sousuke. Thank you.”

 

“You owe me a big one, Matsuoka.”

 

“You bet.”

 

Rin bends down and takes Makoto’s tiny hands into his own, “I’m sorry to have to leave so suddenly, Makoto, but Haru will come pick you up as soon as he returns from Tokyo. In the meantime, Sousuke is going to look after you. He might look big and scary --”

 

“Hey, I’m still here, you know?”

 

Rin ignores his jab and continues, “-- but he’s not mean at all, and he doesn’t bite, so don’t worry about a thing.” The red-head glances at his best friend and sends him a significant look that mainly translates to something along the lines of if Makoto is hurt in any way, Rin will kick his ass.

 

Sousuke nods subtly, rolling his eyes for good measure.

 

“Be good for Sousuke, okay?” Rin straightens up and holds out his fist.

 

Makoto knows what to do now, after spending a brief amount of time with him. He lifts his arm and lightly bumps his smaller fist against Rin’s. “‘Kay!”

 

“Call me if anything happens,” Rin reminds Sousuke.

 

“What good will that do? You’ll be all the way in Sydney,” Sousuke scoffs. He sees Rin’s glare and allows a reluctant, “Fine.”

 

This is how, thirty minutes later, Sousuke finds himself sitting across from the twelve-year-old Iwatobi swim team captain at the dining table in his house on a bright, Tuesday morning.

 

The clock that hangs on the wall behind Makoto ticks forward, and the silence is stifling.

 

Then, Sousuke’s stomach protests in all of its growling glory, and Makoto fails to hide his giggles behind clamped lips.

 

His chair scrapes against the hardwood floor as Sousuke stands up too abruptly, back towards the child.

 

Makoto immediately shuts up, fingers grabbing on to the edge of his chair with white knuckles; he’s still wary about the stranger, and the rigid, inapproachable aura emanating from his terrifyingly tall and muscled stature doesn’t help.

 

“Had breakfast yet?”

 

Makoto blinks and stares blankly at Sousuke’s tensed back, confused by the question.

 

“No,” he replies hesitantly after a pause. He sees Sousuke’s shoulders slump as he shuffles his way to the fridge and begins to take out various ingredients.

 

“Eggs and bacon okay?”

 

“Yes, thank you.”

 

He hears the bacon sizzles in the pan, and soon the delicious, salty scent joins in and is drifting in Makoto’s direction.

 

“How do you like your eggs?”

 

“Sunny side up, please.”

 

Their tones and language are stiffly formal and painfully polite – the older of the two uncertain of how to approach children in general, and the young one still getting used to Sousuke’s unfamiliar presence.

 

He places their plates and utensils on the table and pushes one set of them towards the quiet child. Sousuke goes back and retrieves a glass of water for Makoto and a mug of strong coffee for himself to accompany their meals, and then sits down on his chair again.

 

“Thank you for the food,” they both mutter in a hushed tone, eyes glued to their own respective plates, and begin to eat slowly.

 

Sousuke’s attention is solely on his phone as he attempts to take in the meaning of the news article he’s reading, but the smallest of noises from across the table rattle his concentration so all he can do is pretend, swiping the screen from time to time as meaningless text enters his sight but not absorbed into his mind.

 

This awkward silence lasts for the entirety of breakfast. When Sousuke notes that it’s only 10:06 a.m., and that he still has to spend the upcoming two days with this boy – it doesn’t matter whether he’s a complete stranger or an acquaintance whom he has rarely conversed with – Sousuke groans inwardly, yelling at himself for always having a soft spot for Rin, which often leads to him having to deal with uncomfortable situations like this.

 

“Sousuke onii-san,” Makoto starts with such a low murmur that Sousuke almost misses it. The black-haired boy looks up warily, partly because of what the kid is calling him, and partly because he’s afraid to find out what Makoto is going to ask. At least Makoto has finished his breakfast so he won’t be in fear of being charged for mistreating a child by starvation.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Makoto glances up briefly, but upon seeing the taller male’s icy teal eyes staring back at him and waiting, the child hurriedly lowers his gaze.

 

“A-am I weird?”

 

“Hah? What kind of a question is that?” Sousuke’s voice must have came out louder than either of them have expected as he sees Makoto shrinks further back into his seat. He clears his throat, and lets out a steady exhale before he continues, “What makes you think that?”

 

“Because…” the child wrings his hands together fretfully on the tabletop, green eyes never leaving the surface, “because they keep giving me these funny looks sometimes when they thought I wasn’t paying attention, as if they don’t quite know what to do with me. And nobody seems to want to have me. They keep passing me off to the next person in line like I’m something dirty or embarrassing.”

 

Makoto stops at once, realizing that he has spoken too much and half of those thoughts are probably silly.

 

Honestly, Sousuke can’t fault anyone who has known Makoto for a long time for being shocked by the whole situation; it’s a strange sight to witness the Makoto Tachibana you know as a six-foot tall, eighteen-year-old young man being suddenly reduced to barely a teenager who only retains two-thirds of his original height. But science can’t explain everything, Sousuke thinks, and he decides – at least for the time being – to forget the fact that the boy in front of him is the Iwatobi swim team captain he’s met and raced with before and start to treat him just like any other children his age, which in Sousuke’s case, isn’t really saying much.

 

He’ll try though – for Rin, and for the shy boy who can’t meet his eyes even now after confessing his feelings. He wonders if he’s been keeping those poisonous thoughts locked up all this time.

 

Sousuke’s eyes soften just the slightest when he speaks again, “Maybe you’ve got this the wrong way, kid. I mean, you heard Rin, right? He has to fly to Australia because of school, so he has no choice. Your friend – Nanase? – he’s busy preparing for school, too or he’ll be here with you. And your other friends – the glasses guy and the blond – I’m sure they all have valid reasons.”

 

Makoto eventually gives a nod, the tears that have been threatening to fall mercifully didn’t, and he remembers what Nagisa had told him before they left. “Rei nii-chan and Nagisa are going to a training camp with their swim team.”

 

“See? There you go. I’m sure they all want to be here for you, but you’ve got to understand that your, uh, situation, has taken them by surprise as well, and they weren’t prepared for it. So, you should probably cut them some slack, yeah?”

 

Without really waiting for Makoto’s reply because Sousuke’s already embarrassed that he’s said too much, he gets up and starts to gather their plates, but Makoto is faster, his little hands quickly grabbing his own dishes and proceeds to put them carefully into the sink. He stiffens when he feels Sousuke’s body looming over him as he dumps his own utensils in, and Sousuke barks out his amusement. “Relax, kid. I really don’t bite.”

 

“It’s ‘Makoto’, not ‘kid’,” the boy tells him softly.

 

“The Makoto Tachibana I know…” Sousuke stops mid-sentence, realizing that what he is planning to say will just confuse the hell out of the boy if what Rin told him is true. “Never mind.” He turns away.

 

“Sousuke onii-san.”

 

He feels a tug on the hem of his shirt from behind, and Sousuke turns around to crouch down at Makoto’s level. “What is it now?”

 

“Thank you for comforting me. Rin was right; you’re not mean at all. You’re actually a really nice guy beneath your coolness, aren’t you?” Makoto gives him a boyish grin, all dimples and bright eyes.

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Sousuke rolls his eyes and ruffles the child’s hair until he squeals in delight and ducks from his grasp.

 

When the two have finally stopped chasing each other around, it’s still too early to even begin thinking about preparing for lunch.

 

“Now then,” Sousuke looks at Makoto, and this time the boy is able to maintain his gaze easily. “What should we do?”

 

“Can we go swimming?” Makoto asks. Unbeknownst to his friends who are always too busy, he has been itching to get into a pool to stretch his legs and arms. Being cooped up indoors all the time for the past week has been painful were it not for the endless supply of books and video games supplied by Rei and Haruka.

 

Even though Sousuke’s been told by his doctor and physical therapist to take it easy since the race months ago, he can’t say no to Makoto’s puppy-dog stare even if he tries. A child should not be allowed to use their adorable attributes as a weapon against adults like that; it’s simply unfair.

 

Oh well, Sousuke supposed he’ll just have to “take it easy” in the water today.

 

“Do you have your swim trunks?”

 

“Um.”

 

Sousuke chuckles at the deflated expression on the boy’s face. “Come on. Let’s go do a little shopping.”

 

-

 

They are having dinner – fried pork cutlets, rice, and miso soup whipped up by Sousuke. Even though Makoto insisted on helping out, but after having cut his finger while he tried to sort out the tofu for the soup, Sousuke quickly shooed him away.

 

They are both exhausted after the swim. Well, for the most part, Sousuke just watched from the side and would occasionally point out a few things to the young boy in the hopes of improving his backstroke form. It was also rather strange to see that backstroke is the only style Makoto swam in; Sousuke was curious but felt that it was not in his place to ask.

 

Makoto looks like he’s just about to fall asleep at his seat, and Sousuke has to hide his smile behind his rice bowl.

 

A few minutes into dinner, however, Sousuke notices that Makoto is staring at him rather intently, the tips of his chopsticks hovering close to his mouth.

 

“Oi, what are you staring at?”

 

Sousuke’s sudden question seems to jolt Makoto out of whatever trance he has been in.

 

“You have really pretty eyes,” Makoto replies without a hint of hesitation, just a whisper of blush on his cheeks as he takes in a mouthful of rice and chews, dutifully shutting himself up.

 

“Uh-huh.” Sousuke has a blank expression on his face, mostly due to the fact that he doesn’t know how to react to such a compliment – wait, was it meant to be a compliment?

 

“Your eyes have sort of like the shade of forests just after the sun has set, or like the colour of the sky during a lightning storm – only much lighter and less scary,” Makoto continues after he’s swallowed his food.

 

How does this kid come up with such corny metaphors about his eye colour – of all things – without batting an eye? Is that a special ability that only children have? Or is it just because he’s Makoto Tachibana?

 

“Your poetic skills need some more tweaking,” Sousuke only says, smirking as he bites into a piece of pork. “You won’t be able to woo girls with clichéd similes like that.”

 

“Hmph. Who says I’m wooing girls with my poetry?” Makoto pouts, head turning to the side defiantly to hide the flush that Sousuke can see on the tip of his ears.

 

‘Cute,’ he thinks before he can stop himself.

 

“Boys then?” Sousuke grins teasingly.

 

“S-Sousuke onii-san!” Makoto sputters as he buries his burning face in his hands. Sousuke laughs, the sound bubbling out from deep in his chest, and Makoto peeks at him from between his fingers before he slowly lets his arms fall to the table, a bashful smile lingering on his lips.

 

“If you’re a few years older and you ask me out with that kind of poetry, I’d totally go out with you,” Sousuke chuckles, his breathing back under control from laughing so hard.

 

“Jeez. You say such embarrassing things,” Makoto mumbles into his soup bowl but there’s no point in even hiding the heat that has spread down to his neck.

 

“Says the one who compares my eyes to the sky,” Sousuke snorts, and Makoto can find no decent argument to defend himself.

 

-

 

“Rin Matsuoka, what did you just say?” Haruka’s voice over the receiver is dangerously quiet – the calm before the storm, as Rin has known, and he winces, glad for once that it’s geographically impossible for him to suffer any terrible consequences for his questionable decision from Haruka, who is still safely in Tokyo and in the midst of a three-day-long orientation.

 

“I said I’m in Sydney right now, and I left Makoto in Sousuke’s care, which, granted, wasn’t my brightest idea, but Ai is out of town with his family and I trust Momo even less when it comes to taking care of a small human being.”

 

If anyone were to blame, Rin muses to himself, he would ultimately point at his Australian coach as the culprit. After a very unexpected and rushed phone call from the man, who demanded him to be present for a training module he wanted to start as soon as possible, Rin was forced to throw some clothes into his suitcase hastily, book a flight, and drop little Makoto off at Sousuke’s.

 

“And anyway, he says I scare him because I look like a shark,” Rin grumbles, and Haruka can practically see the petulant pout on his face from Rin’s offended tone. “I mean, he said it really politely – bless his little soul – but it still hurts!”

 

‘Unbelievable,’ Haruka thinks, though the corner of his lips is threatening to twitch into a smile at Makoto’s comment, and then he remembers the reason he makes the phone call in the first place.

 

“I entrusted you with my best friend, and you left him with Yamazaki?” The volume and acidity of his disbelieved voice is rising – never a good sign with Haruka.

 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do, Haru?” He knows he sounds defensive, but. “Bring him with me to Australia? You know that’s out of the question.”

 

“What about your mother?” Haruka demands.

 

“She’s got a store to look after. I can’t just dump another responsibility on to her out of the blue like that!”

 

“So you decided that ‘dumping’ my best friend on to Yamazaki was an appropriate thing to do?”

 

“He may not be the most sociable person, but he’s a good guy,” Rin explains calmly. He doesn’t have time for this; his break is about to end.

 

“A good guy doesn’t equate to a good caretaker. Do you see the flaw in your logic?” Haruka replies drily.

 

“Great point, but what do you want me to do now? Look, I’ve just checked in with them about an hour ago, and they sounded fine. Would it make you feel any better if I give you Sousuke’s number so you can check in on them yourself?”

 

“No, it wouldn’t, but give me Yamazaki’s number anyway.”

 

Rin concedes, hurriedly giving Sousuke’s cell phone number to an impatient Haruka before saying a hasty goodbye, claiming that training is about to start and he has to go.

 

-

 

Sousuke and Makoto spend the next day at the library.

 

Sousuke is not an avid reader, though the occasional thrillers and historical novels do interest him. Watching Makoto rushing towards a shelf filled with mysteries meant for adult readership, however, is a bit of a shocker. After he eagerly flips through several books to read the passages inside, Makoto shyly asks the older boy if they can borrow a few.

 

Sousuke assents, though he knows Haruka will pick him up the next day.

 

By the end of their visit to the library, their backpacks are loaded with a book of Sherlock Holmes short stories for Makoto, an old Stephen King novel that Sousuke hasn’t read yet, and a couple of volumes of Detective Conan manga that Sousuke borrows merely out of nostalgia.

 

Around lunch time, Sousuke receives a call from an unfamiliar number, but he can guess who it is from the warning text he got from Rin last night.

 

“Nanase,” he says, and sitting beside him with a book on his lap, Makoto perks up at the mention of his best friend.

 

“Is Makoto with you?” His tone is clipped and cold, but underneath that, Sousuke can sense impatience: he’s worried about his friend.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Get him on the phone.”

 

Sousuke does, and he’s only half listening as Makoto exclaims his greeting. After answering a few questions with “yes”s and “no”s, he starts to talk about what he did with Sousuke for the short time they’ve spent with each other. A few more minutes of chattering later, Makoto hands the cell phone back to its owner, “Haru wants to talk to you.”

 

“Yamazaki?”

 

“Yeah.” Sousuke feels that the other boy still has something to say, so he waits. They may not like each other very much, but he’s willing to at least carry a civilized conversation for Makoto’s sake as he perceives the boy’s curious gaze from the corner of his eyes.

 

“Thank you,” Haruka murmurs at long last, voice strained as if it’s taking a lot of energy for him to pull out those two simple words from his throat, “for taking care of Makoto. It seems like he’s having a lot of fun with you. I’m glad. And I apologize for having him to intrude on you this way; Rin should be responsible – well, I’m supposed to be the one who… – anyway, thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Sousuke only responds, and he thinks it’s enough for now. They arrange a time and place for Haruka to pick Makoto up, and after everything’s settled, they hang up, Sousuke sighing as he leans back against the soft cushion on the couch.

 

That night, similar to the previous one, Sousuke turns off the light in the living room after making sure that Makoto is safely tucked in on the make-shift bed that is the couch.

 

Unlike the previous night, however, Sousuke wakes up to the weak knocking on his bedroom door at around 3 a.m. He suspects he was imagining it after a moment of absolute silence, and he’s just about to fall back asleep with his arm thrown carelessly over his eyes when he hears a muffled, “Sousuke onii-san?”

 

Sousuke sits up groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heels of his hand, and asks Makoto to come in.

 

“What is it?”

 

In the near darkness of the room, with only his night light by the door as the sole source of luminosity, Sousuke can make out the boy’s trembling shape at the doorway. He motions silently for him to come closer, and Makoto does, closing the door behind him and dragging his blanket and pillow clumsily in his arms to cross the room and stand close to the bed, not daring to come any closer.

 

“What’s up?” His voice is coarse and scratchy from sleep.

 

“Sorry for waking you up,” Makoto whispers in a strange, cracking voice – brittle and small and afraid. “I-I had a nightmare and I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

 

“Come here,” Sousuke flicks on his bedside lamp, and the room is instantly flushed with an orange glare. Sousuke sees that the little boy is standing two strides away from the bed, his head hung low as if he has done something wrong and is scared of being reprimanded.

 

Reluctantly, Makoto takes the two steps required to reach Sousuke, and the older boy hooks a finger under his chin and tilts his head up.

 

There’s no mistaking the drying tear tracks on Makoto’s blotchy cheeks, the skin lined with linen crease impressions from pressing on the pillow too hard. He brushes a tentative thumb against the skin underneath his eye, and Makoto squeezes them close, shame coursing through his body.

 

“Makoto, what’s wrong?” This is the first time Sousuke calls him by his first name.

 

Makoto feels Sousuke’s fingers left his face and rest on his shoulder, a light, comforting weight that grounds him to reality, the sensation of the claws of the endless ocean dragging him down, the thunderous sounds of crashing waves, and the feeling of suffocation, water rushing into his nose and forcing its way down his throat into his aching lungs all receding and crawling back into the untouchable night.

 

“I dreamt that… that I was drowning again. I haven’t had this nightmare in such a long time, it just overwhelmed me, I guess. I’m sorry,” Makoto apologizes again, hugging the pillow closer to him.

 

“Don’t apologize for something that’s not your fault,” Sousuke tells him gruffly, but the frown between his brows slackens.

 

The memory of Makoto swimming only backstroke yesterday and the image of a much stronger and mature captain of a rival high school’s swim team using his powerful arms and back muscles to cut and slay his way through the water with such vicious grace – the two Makoto’s , the very same yet vastly different individual, overlap in Sousuke’s mind.

 

He wants to find out the source of Makoto’s fear, to hear the story behind it, so that he can be there for him, to shield him from nightmares that eat at him bit by bit.

 

Sousuke realizes with a spastic jolt that this is a very strange thought to have after spending only two days with Makoto, not to mention the fact that he doesn’t know the actual-aged Makoto nearly well enough to have such intense desire to protect him.

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“I-is it okay if I sleep in your room? Just on the floor, I mean!” Makoto hides his face further into the pillow. He knows it’s a selfish request; he’s been so used to having Haruka by his side every time his lurid dreams surface that he’s become dependent on having the calming presence of someone warm and familiar close in proximity during these times. “Haru always stays by my bedside until I fall back asleep,” Makoto says sheepishly as a way of explanation.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to share? My bed’s plenty big enough for the two of us.”

 

“I’m twelve, not five,” Makoto states this as if it’s the most obvious fact.

 

Sousuke chuckles at Makoto’s indignant pout and surrenders. “Fair enough.”

 

He digs around the hall closet for an extra set of comforter and sets it flat on the ground to make it more comfortable for Makoto to sleep on.

 

After murmuring a gentle “thank you” and “good night, Sousuke onii-san”, Makoto snuggles into his rearranged bedding and closes his eyes.

 

Sousuke falls asleep to the sound of Makoto’s gradually slowing breaths, musing to himself what a damn weird situation he finds himself getting mixed in, and how he is oddly glad about it.

 

When he next wakes up, it’s by some sort of shuffling sound against the floorboard, as if someone is trying very hard to sneak out of his room without being noticed. Sousuke cracks his eyes open; he can tell from the angle of the sunlight that’s pouring through his blinds that it’s late morning.

 

“Hey kid, are you up already?” Sousuke sits up blearily and stretch his arms accompanied by a big yawn. He runs a lazy hand through his tousled dark hair and looks at the spot where Makoto was sleeping last night, but instead of finding a small child, taking in his place is a grown man – more specifically, a nearly naked grown man with wild golden-brown hair that falls into bright green eyes whose dignity is only being protected by the blanket that he’s used to cover the lower half of his body with. “Oh.”

 

“A-ah, good morning, Sousuke o-, I mean,” he slaps a hand over his eyes in embarrassment, “Yamazaki-kun.”

 

“Good morning… well, I suppose I can’t call you ‘kid’ anymore, can I?” Sousuke smirks. “Makoto-kun.”

 

“Oh god, this is humiliating,” Makoto whines into the palm of his hand and he’s half turning away from the bed, wishing the ground will just open up and swallow him.

 

“You look indecent,” Sousuke’s calm gaze lingers along the slender lines of his neck and down to his rippled back before pinning the startled brunet with an amused stare. “Where are your clothes?”

 

Makoto can’t even speak, just nodding in the general direction of where the bed sheets are still laid rumpled on the ground. Shreds of green and white fabric scatter about; the only logical explanation for this observation is that his clothes did not grow along with his owner overnight.

 

“I see.” Sousuke nods, but when he recalls what has happened for the last two days, the curl of his lips turn firm and serious. “Do you remember what happened?”

 

“Yeah,” Makoto scratches his cheek. “It’s so strange! I remember not remembering you guys while I was in my younger body, and it’s just. I don’t know how to explain it; I can’t even begin to understand what has happened and just thinking about it is giving me a headache. You know what I mean?” He waves his one arm around somewhat vaguely, the other still holding onto the blanket by his waist.

 

“Yeah,” Sousuke totally gets it

 

They look at each other with a kind of shared understanding before Makoto laughs timidly, looking away, and Sousuke coughs to cover up whatever sappy words that are on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Here,” Sousuke hands him a stack of clothes that Makoto has to balance carefully with one arm without tripping over the trailing comforter. “They might be a bit big but they should fit you. You can change in here if you like; I’m going to the bathroom to wash up.”

 

Makoto nods his thanks, and when Sousuke closes the door shut behind him, the brunet collapses on to the floor, the pieces of clothing toppling messily out of his grasp.

 

There are a lot of things Makoto didn’t expect. Among other things, most prominently being transformed back into his twelve-year-old self, he most definitely did not expect to wake up in Sousuke Yamazaki’s bedroom without any clothes on. Just the thought of their exchange a few minutes ago is enough to make him blush from head to toe all over again.

 

He can’t say he knows Sousuke well, but from what Rin has told him of his childhood friend, he appears to be a kind-hearted person though he doesn’t show that side to everyone. He’s always thought that that trait of Sousuke’s is a lot like Haruka in that aspect.

 

As he pulls on Sousuke’s clothes hastily, having to roll up the sleeves of the dark teal and black plaid button-up, Makoto recalls the two days he spent with the seemingly intimidating young man he’s always only been able to observe from afar. Rin is right all along, he thinks with a small smile.

 

Makoto has insisted that he can make it back home fine by himself, but Sousuke is adamant about at least accompanying him to the train station, and Makoto doesn’t have the heart or the will to say no.

 

“Give me your arm,” Sousuke says out of the blue. They’re standing before the entrance of the station, a few stray passengers who have just gotten off the train rush by them to get to their destinations.

 

“Why?”

 

“I swear you were more likeable when you were a kid,” Sousuke clicks his tongue. “Asked less redundant questions, at least.”

 

“That was mean,” Makoto comments, but offers his arm out anyway.

 

The dark-haired boy took out a Sharpie, uncaps it with his mouth, and scribbles something wetly onto his skin after rolling his sleeves up further.

 

“What’s this?” Makoto squints at the lines; they’re upside-down from his perspective.

 

“For when you’re still interested in asking me out with your god-awful poetry,” Sousuke grins, recapping the marker with a flourish.

 

“I-I can’t believe you took that seriously,” Makoto stammers, green gaze lowering to the ground, and then realizes what the other boy has said. “Hey, my poetry wasn’t that bad… for a twelve-year-old!”

 

“You keep telling yourself that, Makoto-kun,” Sousuke slaps his shoulder playfully.

 

The way he pronounces his name with the honorific is almost teasing, but Makoto doesn’t mind because the once remote almost-stranger who is only known to him as Rin’s childhood friend is now his friend, too. The fact that Sousuke is willing to call him by his first name is evidence that prove their friendship can be reflected and transformed into an endless number of colourful glass patterns: fragile and complex, yet ever-changing, growing.

 

Like a kaleidoscope in a child’s hands, Makoto will always be amazed by the wonder and beauty of it, and as he waves his farewell on the top step of the stairs, he hopes that Sousuke will feel the same as well.


End file.
